


Progress of Ravens

by spooky_blue



Category: Warcraft (2016), World of Warcraft
Genre: Eventual Smut, LionTrust, M/M, Raventrust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 22:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8418772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooky_blue/pseuds/spooky_blue
Summary: Alternate to the Warcraft movie universe.  What if Khadgar joined Medivh as an apprentice midway into the Guardian's six-year, self-imposed exile from civilization before the Great Portal was opened?





	1. Arrival

**Arrival**

The Kirin Tor’s first letter had arrived in early spring.  I read it dutifully, mostly because Moroes was watching.  The old castellan expected at least that much from me.  So I skimmed the letter once, and then more carefully a second time, feeling strong waves of irritation washing through me at its contents.

_Me, take an apprentice?  I don’t think so._

Well, duty might dictate that I read the letter, but that didn’t mean I had to respond.  So I didn’t. 

The Order hadn’t exactly attempted sing the praises of the young trainee, either.  Archmage Antonidas had selected interesting words to describe the boy named Khadgar.  Words like “recalcitrant” and “troubled youth” were scarcely enticing. He was the current Guardian Novitiate – the protégé in training to replace me as Guardian of Azeroth.  Replacements usually came to power in one of two ways – either due to the expiration of the current Guardian’s life or his usefulness to the Kirin Tor. 

_No, I’m not interested in training my replacement.  Especially a difficult one._

I kept my composure in front of Moroes, but when he left, I fumed rather childishly.  Wasn’t that the entire reason for being holed up in Karazhan?  To escape from the incessant chatter of others, the distractions from my arcane pursuits and complex research projects?  Didn’t they know that defending the realm was serious work?  I didn’t have time to play nursemaid.

Besides, I was not sure that I was capable of instructing an apprentice.  Three long years had passed since Stormwind won the excruciating, bitter wars against the trolls.  In many ways, the war had changed me.  Being the Guardian had changed me.  I no longer possessed the energy that I once had. 

That change started slowly, and I cannot remember exactly how.  One day, I realized that I was carrying a great weight.  I could not describe what it was, only how it felt.  Some days, it was like a grey cloak wrapped too tightly.  Other days, it smelled like a rotting log.  A festering wound in my chest.  Apathy.  Exhaustion.  Numbness.  The burden grew heavier each day, until I felt as though the fabric of my being was wearing thin from the carrying of it. 

And so I began sending people away from Karazhan.  The workers at the tower, the tenants from the lands – one by one, I dismissed them until no one was left but me and Moroes, my faithful castellan.  Once a thriving, busy hub of activity, the towers were now empty and silent.  I received no guests, returned no correspondence.  I was left to wallow in my malaise with few interruptions, which was all that I desired.

Then the second letter arrived, as the wet spring brightened into summer.  The Kirin Tor were no longer inquiring after my interest in pursuing the opportunity – they were asking when would be a good time for the boy to arrive.  Perhaps after harvest, when things settled down?  Archmage Antonidas asked for my prompt reply.

I didn’t respond to that letter, either. 

The nerve of their assumptions was galling.  Didn’t they know the Guardian of Azeroth was far too busy to bother with such things?  Couldn’t the pawn the boy off on some other fool with more time and patience?  I tossed the letter on my unused desk and put the matter from my mind.

_Too busy.  Too tired.  No apprentice._

The third letter arrived on the doorstep of Karazhan, as wet and soggy as the dripping young man who delivered it.  The rains of autumn were well underway, and the bare courtyard afforded little protection from the downpour.

I spied on the messenger from the tower above, seeing a tiny smudge of blue waiting patiently in the rain.  Moroes had rather unkindly made the youth wait outside while he brought the letter of introduction up to my chamber at the top of the tower.  While petty, this suited my sour frame of mind just fine. 

“Who the hell do they think they are,” I’d snapped in irritation, pacing around the room with more vigor than I’d felt in months. “Meddling in my affairs and presuming that I have even the slightest mote of interest in their latest little upstart protégé?  Asking me to prepare my own replacement, so they can be ready to put me off at a moment’s notice?  I don’t have time for this, Moroes.  Antonidas can take this letter and shove it right up his-”

Moroes was waiting patiently, his face as devoid of expression as ever.  “If the Order had known that you didn’t intend to take on an apprentice, perhaps they wouldn’t have sent him.”  He was carefully not looking at the growing pile of letters from the Kirin Tor on my desk.

I knew a rebuke when I heard one, and fought down irritation.  The old bastard was right, of course.  I ought to have written back.  “Yes, Moroes, thank you for that reminder,” I said, with a little more snipe than was necessary.  “That would have helped immensely.”

Showing no reaction to the unwonted sarcasm, Moroes tipped his head slightly to the side.  A question.

“We’ll have to bring him in, I suppose.  It’s wetter out there than an otter’s pocket.” I sighed, reluctant to give the apprentice false hope by bringing him inside but knowing I couldn’t very well send him away in the storm.  “Feed him, get him dry.  Don’t make any promises.  I’ll be down eventually.”

Ignoring my colorful phrasing, Moroes nodded in acknowledgement and moved for the door.  Something about the exchange felt strange, and as he left, I realized that we had not spoken so many words altogether in several spans.  He and I had become accustomed to communicating with few words between us.

I stared outside the window again at the blue shape, huddling against the wall as the rain beat down.

_What kind of boy is waiting down there?  Arrogant, as I was?  Thinking he has all the answers?  Drunk on his own power?  What will he make of this abandoned place, with no company but an aging castellan and a cracked Guardian?  Perhaps we could use a little life in this empty tower again.  If he’s not too obnoxious._

Perhaps.  Karazhan’s silence wrapped around me like a comforting cloak, helping to numb my senses against the wearying burden, and I was loathe to give it up what little peace I had managed to find.  Pushing my gloomy thoughts away, I made myself presentable and prepared to greet my guest.


	2. Measurements

**Measurement**

Standing by the fire, still showing signs of dampness, Khadgar looked younger than I had expected.  The letters had said he was seventeen, but his face held a softness that suggested someone younger.  Or perhaps I was getting older, and time had warped my perspective on such matters.

Lost in whatever book he was reading, he did not notice my approach.  I took the opportunity to take his measure.  We had similar builds – of average height and weight, he appeared to be very slightly smaller than I.  His hair was dark brown and somewhat disheveled, his hands seemed strong and probably staff or sword-trained.  They’d outfitted him not in the violet robes of the Kirin Tor, which was surprising, but in plain, sturdy traveling clothing of blues and greys.  The fire had added a ruddy glow to his pale cheeks.  At first review, I was forced to admit that he didn’t appear overtly obnoxious.  He seemed…bookish.  Pleasant.

“So you are young Trust,” I said, taking a minute amount of pleasure in how my sudden words made him startle before continuing, “…the promising novitiate I’ve heard so much about.” 

Snapping the book shut, Khadgar bowed very slightly.  “Guardian.”  He swallowed nervously.  “Thank you for receiving me.  I understand that my presence is somewhat unexpected.  They told me that letters were sent…”  He trailed off uncomfortably.

Not wanting to admit that I’d ignored the letters, I chose to ignore his statement, and let the silence linger a shade too long.  “Moroes has given you dinner and a room?” I asked politely.

“Yes, sir.  He is very attentive.” 

“What are you studying?” I asked, nodding at the book.

He blinked, surprised.  “Thermal motion of fire spells.  Solid-state, arcane physics, measurement theory.”

“Are you a fire mage, then?” I probed at him, trying to get a feel for him.

“No, sir.  I haven’t chosen a specialization.  Well, not yet,” Khadgar amended, looking down at the book.  “I study everything, but arcane is my preference.  It seems more pure.”  He smiled shyly, eyes flickering to mine.  “Do you have a specialty?”

I actually felt pain prickling in my chest unexpectedly.  _Those eyes._   Dark brown, framed by long lashes, his eyes seemed like twin liquid pools that poured down somewhere deep inside.  It was probably a trick of the firelight.  Words like “chocolate brown” or “rich coffee” came to mind, but were completely inadequate.  Had my smile ever been that innocent?  Had I ever been that young?

Trying to hide the sudden roil of emotion, I responded with a frown. “I exist to protect Azeroth.  That is my specialty.”

Khadgar nodded thoughtfully, looking me over and seeming to take my measurement as well.  I wondered what he saw, what he thought of the worn out, middle-aged man who stood before him.  I’d pulled on a clean robe and combed my hair, which was more attention than I’d given to my appearance in some time.  Still, one couldn’t hide years of neglect with a few minutes of polish.  A tiny furrow appeared in his brow, and I turned away before he could pester me with questions.

_Enough._

“How long do you intend to stay?” I spoke to the fire.

Khadgar actually shifted backward, taken aback by my question. “As long as I’m fit to be trained, Guardian,” he said at last.  “As long as you’ll have me.”

_A strange response_ , I mulled internally.  “Are you an independent learner?”

He stared at me.  “Sir?”

“If I give you assignments, research projects and the like, can you perform with minimal direction?”

Khadgar nodded slowly.

 “Will you refrain from getting underfoot and interrupting me?  I can’t have you barging in on spellcasting or bothering me with questions.”

“Yes, Guardian,” he replied solemnly.

“Will you follow my instructions explicitly, and obey Moroes in all things?

Another nod.

“You will find that I have exceptionally high standards.  I am not an easy master to please.” I spoke sternly, trying to project severity.  Actually, I had no idea what kind of master I would be, never having had an apprentice before.  Knowing my own short fuse and moody nature, I decided to lower his expectations early. Life in Karazhan would be no picnic, that much I knew.

“If you choose to stay,” I continued, “you will work harder than you ever have before, and there will be few rewards or comforts in this barren tower.   I am the most powerful mage in Azeroth.  You know this.”  Internally, I cringed at my own hubris, even while knowing it was true.  That was the role of the Guardian, after all.  Imbued with tremendously great powers by the Kirin Tor’s Council of Six, I was tasked with equally great responsibilities. _Oh, just, you know, protecting the entire realm against evil forces._ “Under my tutelage, you will fully develop your capacity as a student of the arcane.   It won’t be easy, but I believe you will find it worthwhile.

Looking directly into his face, I finished quietly, “However, should you find the match ill-suited, you are welcome to return to the Violet Citadel.  You are not captive here.  The decision to stay or leave shall be yours.  That is my promise to you.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Khadgar, relief plain in his voice.  I suppressed a smile, wondering if his relief came from my implied acceptance of him as an apprentice, or my promise that he could leave. 

“It’s settled then.  Moroes will see to your needs.  Goodnight, Trust,” I said softly, before sweeping from the room before he could respond.

_Damn it.  What have I gotten myself into?_


	3. Observation

**Observation**

I drew up a lengthy list of assignments for my new apprentice, along with an extensive reading list and instructions to assist Moroes in keeping after the tower.  By the time I was finished, I estimated that young Khadgar would have enough to keep him busy and out of my hair for several weeks while I decided an actual course of action.  Although in a fit of madness I’d taken him on as a student, I found the concept exhausting.  To be perfectly honest, there were days when I didn’t have the strength of will to get out of bed, let alone defend the realm.  Or wash my face.  Or eat dinner.  Getting overly involved in this…project…was completely unthinkable.

_Let’s see how he does on his own for the first few weeks,_ I decided. 

To be perfectly honest, I was avoiding the newcomer.  It wasn’t terribly difficult, since I rarely left my chambers at the top of the tower.  Moroes brought me anything I needed from below.

While I avoided Khadgar in person, I’m a little ashamed to admit that I did spy on him.  Obsessively. 

Shifting into my raven form, it was easy to find dark corners in which to hide while I observed my new apprentice.  I saw him listening earnestly while Moroes spoke, spending long hours bent over a book by the fire, practicing again and again in the courtyard the intricate movements and intonations required for precise spellcasting.

I was surprised at every turn.  Khadgar was nothing that I had expected, based upon the less than flattering letters penned by Archmage Antonidas. 

From the way he peppered poor Moroes with questions as the old mage explained the library’s complicated cataloging structure, or showed him around the remaining rooms that we still used in the nearly abandoned tower, he showed keen observation and a quick intellect.  He was reserved and respectful, yet curious.  I also found him to be sort of sweet, often moving quickly to help Moroes before he was asked and doing little things like setting out items that the castellan might need for the next day.

Where was the recalcitrance?  Khadgar certainly didn’t seem like the troubled youth I had expected. I was fully unprepared for this strange creature moving quietly through my towers, full of life and wonder and insatiable curiosity.  Still, it had only been three days.  Perhaps his true colors were yet to be revealed.

Moroes knew that I was spying, and I knew the he didn’t approve.  This was not something that we would speak of, naturally, but he had his own little ways of conveying disapproval.  There was a certain tightness to his mouth when he brought food upstairs, or handed me a report that Khadgar had written.  At any rate, I ignored his disapproval. 

I didn’t feel terribly bad about it.  I’d been holed up in Karazhan with little break in routine for nearly three years.   Moroes couldn’t begrudge me a little observation of the first interesting thing to happen to happen in nearly three years. It was my duty to determine the quality of my new apprentice. 

All in all, I was heartily relieved as the situation progressed.  Khadgar was fitting into our quiet routines nicely.  I rather liked having him around.  Moroes would never had said so, but he certainly needed the help.  I allowed myself a glimmer of hope to think that this might work out after all. 


	4. Dreams

**Dreams**

_Pacing the empty halls of Karazhan, I was looking for something, but I could not remember what it was.  Something that I desperately needed to find.  Azeroth was depending on me.  A heavy miasma was creeping through my chest, filling my lungs with despair.  My throat was closing, and I was running out of time.  Where is it?  Running as fast as I could, yet barely moving, the sense of destruction prickled at the back of my neck like slender, bony fingers…_

_No!_   I jerked awake with a cry, breathing heavily and looking around my darkened sleeping room. _A dream, just a dream.  Just another nightmare.  It’s not real,_ I told myself, shivering despite the numerous blankets tangled around my sweating body.  A light tap sounded, and my still-raw nerves sent me flinching in response.

_Moroes?_ I was a little confused. _What could the old man want?_

Another tap at the door, and Khadgar slipped inside, illuminated by a small glow of arcane circling his palm.  “Guardian?” he called softly, “Are you all right?”

I stared, wondering if I were seeing things, pushing myself upright in the bed. 

_Unbelievable.  What is he doing in my chamber?_

“What are you doing in here?” I snapped, not quite able to keep the shock out of my voice.  The nightmares always left me unbalanced, a little disoriented.  No wonder I could not make sense of the situation.

“I heard you cry out.”  Khadgar moved toward the bed, concern etched into his face.

“…Beg pardon?”  I was basically stammering, not quite able to focus my thoughts.“What possible reason do you have being in this wing of the tower, Trust?”

“I was exploring.”  Khadgar sounded matter of fact, with no trace of embarrassment at breaking into his teacher’s room uninvited.  “Yesterday.  I heard a sound, and followed it here.  You were having a nightmare, weren’t you?” 

I realized I was gaping foolishly, and forced my jaw to close.  I stared while he went on. 

Khadgar continued evenly, “I came back tonight to…to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”  The tone of my response was crafted to crush any argument, but Khadgar didn’t appear to notice as he knelt on the floor beside the bed.  Dark brown eyes flickered up and down, taking in my sweaty forehead and the tangled bedsheets.  Khadgar’s hand stretched out, hesitated, then brushed at my temple, pushing a strand of hair back behind my ear.  I seemed frozen in place as his fingers moved softly to my bare shoulder, gripping comfortingly.

“Do you want me to stay for a while?” Khadgar seemed oblivious to how ridiculous his question was.

“No,” I snapped decisively, shrugging my shoulder to shake him off. “I want you to go back downstairs and go to sleep.”

Ignoring the order, Khadgar leaned his head against the bedpost and simply watched, allowing his hand fall from my shoulder into his lap.

“Respectfully, Guardian, no.”  Khadgar peered closer and I sighed in weary frustration.  So what if he saw my red-rimmed eyes?  If he knew that the wet tracks running down my face were from more than just sweat, he made no comment. “I don’t think you should be alone,” he said seriously.

Suddenly overcome with irritation, I jerked my hand towards his face and felt the arcane moving in response before I really even knew what I was doing.  Azure magic blazed from my fingertips, the spell circling just inches from Khadgar’s stubborn face.  He flinched reflexively, which was satisfying, but made no move to leave.  Barely blinking, he stared at me wide-eyed, perhaps waiting to see if I would come to my senses…or unleash the spell into his face.

 “Let me stay with you,” said Khadgar softly.  “Please, Guardian.  Whatever you dreamed, you don’t have to face it alone.”

“Go,” I replied, my voice going dangerously soft.  “Now.  I will not tell you a third time.”

Khadgar sighed once, then nodded.  Climbing reluctantly to his feet, he leaned over the bed and smoothly rearranged the blankets across my body. 

“Enough, Mother Hen,” I snapped, jerking the blankets back.  _By the Light, when’s the last time someone tried to tuck me into bed?_   _This is truly outrageous.  Even Moroes wouldn’t dare such a thing._

Unperturbed, Khadgar gave me a final, serious look and responded evenly, “As you wish, Guardian.”  And then he was gone, the door closing with a small click. 

When he left, I slumped back into the bed, exhausted by the encounter in a way that I couldn’t unravel.  There was a strange mistiness threatening behind my eyes, and it wasn’t until hours later that I realized what had disturbed me so.

He had touched me.  Gently, as if he cared.  He barely knew me.

Nobody had cared for me like that, not for a long time.  Not since the war was over, certainly, and possibly before that.  When was the last time someone had caressed me, or put their fingers through my hair?  For that matter, when was the last time I’d shaken hands with a friend, or felt a brotherly hug?  His touch on my temple, the hand gripping my shoulder, replayed again and again.

What had possessed the boy to touch me like that?

I did not sleep for a long time.


End file.
